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"It was a wonderful experience interacting with you and appreciate the way you have planned and executed the whole publication process within the agreed timelines.”
Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh Pal
Pooja
A friend, confidant and mother to two, Pooja Pasricha is a homemaker. An aesthete, she is a painter of fair repute and loves to dabble with interiors. Writing has always been a cathartic process for her. She is a keen observer of the human spirit and likes to pen her thoughts on the same. For her, kindness is the only way forward for humanity. It is like a whiff of a pleasant perfume everyone wants more of. She believes this is one adhesive that holds people together.Read More...
Tell Tale Pug Tail & Everything Else
Books by Pooja Pasricha
Attaining Nirvana,
isn’t my cuppa.
Zen, meditation, Koan,
Groan!!
Yoga and chanting,
is just not my thing.
My only need is to vocalise.
I like discussions,
a chit chat about this and that.
So, I need more than just me.
It’s funny how my family finds employment,
at a mere clearing of my throat.
It’s an itch,
I need to scratch.
Hence, I write.
I’m mostly just trying to be funny.
If you haven’t h
The Moon Me And Him
By
Pooja in Poetry | Reads: 321 | Likes: 0
The moon, resplendent joyous and glorious, shone softly. Benign and generous, bestowing peace. We sat by the brook, in quiet harmony, letting the calm serenity engulf us. The moon beams, cascaded playfully across the water; weaving dreams; and carrying wishes; shimmering ,dancing and glittering. A c Read More...
Published on Feb 16,2021 03:28 PM
Only love
By
Pooja in Poetry | Reads: 443 | Likes: 0
Women cannot be made to order. Life is not a rhyming poem. Everyone and everything is flawed . Just like this unrhyming piece. Love me for who I am, with my imperfections and scars. inside out. Whatever I am. Whoever I choose to be. I want you to let me be me. If you want me to change , then I will Read More...
Published on Feb 16,2021 03:23 PM
Glow
By
Pooja in Poetry | Reads: 419 | Likes: 0
There is no flaw in my love; it's pure and true. It's absolute. It is you who is like a sieve. It is you who has a void. You can't seem to hold the love in. But you shine; Because of my love . And your insides are soothed when I touch each part of you as love flows through you. And, as it leaves thr Read More...
Published on Feb 16,2021 03:19 PM
Is it Love
By
Pooja in Poetry | Reads: 625 | Likes: 0
Is it love, when , the one you love, can't feel your love? Is it love, when, you can hear his thoughts, before they become words. Feel his heart beat in yours. When, he looks at you but the language of your eyes evades him. He doesn't know that your heart is incapable of beating alone. Is it love, w Read More...
Published on Feb 15,2021 09:37 PM
Love Story
By
Pooja in Stories | Reads: 640 | Likes: 0
Rummaging frantically through his brain for lost memories, as if looking through his old coat pocket for a letter he was sure he had kept, for the love of his life. Like rifling through old files for that specific one. He looks dishevelled, unkempt, befuddled. He is certain he will find them, he see Read More...
Published on Feb 15,2021 09:32 PM
PTTV(Pre Teen Teenonwards Virus)
By
Pooja in Humour & Comedy | Reads: 260 | Likes: 0
Preteen Teen Teenonwards Virus(PTTV) usually afflicts children at ages of 12 and onwards. Symptoms include, Inability to wake before at least noon. Inability to sleep before 3 a.m. Extreme lethargy which makes it very painful for children to raise their limbs to throw trash in the bin placed half an Read More...
Published on May 9,2020 05:01 PM
The Believer
By
Pooja in Supernatural | Reads: 328 | Likes: 0
Musty, the smell of sadness and old age. Somehow her home always hosted this odour. The structure itself seemed to sag. Burdened with its own weight. Forlorn and desolate. It almost looked hunched over and tired. The insides pristine white. The walls painted in purity. She couldn't overcome th Read More...
Published on Mar 28,2020 05:49 PM
Mother
By
Pooja in General Literary | Reads: 590 | Likes: 0
What they grew out of, she grew into.. Wrapped in memories and her warmest shawl, she sat in her porch. Her feeble, bent frame, crouched insignificantly in the large rocking chair. The scratched surface and the chipped wood, resonated a camraderie of years. Her wrinkled, sagging yellowed skin , a sh Read More...
Published on Mar 27,2020 02:51 PM
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